From records to cassettes, CDs to Blu-rays.
Jam Master Jay to Jay, from NWA to Kanye.
From white tees to peacoats,
Nikes to Reeboks.
From durags on hoodrats,
From gang signs to hangtimes.
From brothers who spent time,
To those who spat rhymes.
Mad love to whose who spent time on their grind.
I'm part of the Foundation, they call me the blueprint.
You're welcome to walk the talk, if the
shoe fits.
No-one admitted to putting the game to shame,
So who did?
I'm asking one more time, so who did?
I'm trying to hack away the chains that bind so tightly to this game.
But when I'm done, someone else will put the clasp on her wrists again.
Feels like I need to get her sins pardon by the president.
Nothing has ever been
The same. Ever since
Hip Hop was incarcerated, I had been
grieving ever since.
She is on the death row.
Death crowed,
every night.
Scythe in hand, still by the window.
She ain't fazed, though.
Got jumped more times than a trampoline.
Point blank with a 5.4".
With her eyes closed,
She heard Icewater
in her mind, soul.
Her eyes watered,
as she let go.